


everything i've ever let go of has claw marks in it

by myladybrienne



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, PWP without Porn, Post-Canon, ooc i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 13:11:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20528585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myladybrienne/pseuds/myladybrienne
Summary: brienne ends up in cersei's service after the war is over and the two play a game of obedience.





	everything i've ever let go of has claw marks in it

The unlikely and dysfunctional agreement between Queen Cersei and the northern kingdom had come as a shock to all involved. The death first of the Night King and then of the Dragon Queen left everyone hoping for a brief reprieve from the war.

Newly-crowned Sansa Stark was ready to burn the Lannisters at the stake, but she listened when her sister reminded her of what they had been fighting for. The North was theirs and Cersei had not the strength to fight them for it. It was not so much a peace, more a ceasefire set to last for generations. “Men started all of this with their greed and their bloodlust and their _cocks_. Fly home, little dove. I am a _queen, _and I have made a battlefield of my queendom. It is time that we rule.”

The Northmen and their armies marched back to their wintery home and the foreign leagues of men from across the Narrow Sea set sail without a Queen. The Iron Islanders proved the greatest problem, though with a promise of some autonomy if not in its entirety, they left too.

Perhaps the greatest surprise of all was that Ser Brienne, the kingslayer’s whore, the ruined maid of Tarth, remained in the capital.

“Your Grace,” Brienne had started in confusion only to be interrupted by her queen.

“I have enough trustworthy men to protect every square foot on Winterfell. The loss of you will be felt, Brienne, but Cersei will have her spies no matter where I go and so I must have mine too. You are the _only _one she’ll trust. If you swear an oath to her, she knows you’d never break it. Trustworthy swordsmen are hard to come by, she’ll be happy to have you, I’m sure.”

Once before she had sworn herself to a Stark woman, and once before she had been bid protect a Lannister. It had almost gotten her killed half a dozen times, but she had kept her vow all the same, and so she would again.

Her vow had been accepted with a reluctance unsuited to Cersei, but it had been accepted nonetheless. The Lion Queen was weak in her recovery and she needed any sword that she could trust.

The first time she had asked Brienne to come to her chambers, it had been out of sheer novelty. She had come up with some transparent excuse and dismissed her. The second time she came, Cersei asked her increasingly intrusive questions about her personal life. The third time she came, Cersei asked her exclusively about Jaime.

“Did you hate him?”

“I think so. I saw this good in him, this real, integral goodness that had survived through everything he’d seen and done and said. I thought I’d _shown _him that he didn’t need you, that you didn’t love him, but he didn’t care. I didn’t hate him for leaving me. He wasn’t the first man to think he was breaking my heart and not care. I hated him for being loyal to you.”

Cersei sipped her wine and wondered if Sansa had meant Brienne to be a punishment. She was rather enjoying the curiosity of her new lady knight.

“I always thought I knew what loyalty was. My moral compass has guided me through every trial of my life and his decision sent it spinning. It made me question everything. If I had true loyalty to a person, could I really turn against them when the time came? If you asked me to kill an innocent man, could I do it? I worry that I could, I worry that I’ve bound my morals too tightly to my oaths,” Brienne continued, a colour rising in her cheeks as she looked up at the queen with a hint of shame.

The dynamic between them had grown strangely. A level of respect for the queen rested overhead and Brienne’s cordial nature when it came to behaving at court led the conversation but she had developed a familiarity with Sansa. In the first few days, she had tried to force herself out of the habit, but Cersei had only encouraged it. 

“You worry you’d do anything I ask of you?” Her tone was warm with wine and Brienne shivered involuntarily at it. “I’m reluctant to admit how that pleases me, Brienne. All the loyalty I’ve ever possessed has been superficial, likely because I’m unworthy of the loyalty of truly good people, but _you, _Brienne. There’s not a soul you don’t think worth saving, is there.” 

Brienne tightened her jaw. Oftentimes, she wished she thought differently. She sometimes wondered if she even _had _independent thoughts and feelings anymore. The last time she’d done something entirely for herself had been Jaime, and that had ended so terribly, she feared she was sworn off it for life.

The two of them had bonded in a strange sort of way over the death of him. It was more of a mutual resentment, admittedly. Both felt they had been abandoned in his death and so turned to one another in search of empathy. Brienne found herself shocked to sense it in the stony Lannister queen. 

“Pour yourself some wine.” The words came out determined and Brienne snapped her gaze to meet Cersei’s, softened by the smirk against her lips. “Let’s test your theory. You said _anything._”  
  
Brienne cleared her throat awkwardly. “Your Grace.”

“_Easy _things, Brienne. Have some wine.”  
  
Obediently, she poured herself a cup and gulped it down. A long glare from Cersei said enough and she filled the cup again and sipped at it. Slowly, Cersei came up with little tasks for Brienne. Each time, the reluctance grew a little more in Brienne but she did not stop.

“Go and kill Ser Gerold?”  
  
The words had come out as a question though that didn’t stop the immediate stiffening of Brienne’s posture and the nervous flexing of her sword hand. Her breaths became thick and fast through her nostrils and there was a rising pink in her cheeks. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip uncomfortably, so much so that Cersei couldn’t watch it. “Calm down!” She’d snapped so suddenly that it had drawn Brienne from her worries. “I was only speculating. I don’t want you to kill one of the few good guards I have left for the sake of an experiment.”

The power was almost unpleasant to possess. Cersei thought of Ser Gregor, of how heartlessly he’d done her deeds and how easy it had made ordering them. She did what was necessary, and she might take a little more pleasure than she ought to in it, but there was no pleasure in watching Brienne squirm and struggle with the weight of such a task.

“I used to _long _for that sort of power over people. Part of me still does, I think, but I have the throne and that’s all I ever really wanted. I used to think of the worst things I could make people do, just because I knew they’d never say no to me. We raise our sons to be power hungry and our daughters to be sweet, I fear my lord father confused things with Jaime and I sometimes.”

Brienne fell down into the chair opposite and sipped her wine. _How far would she go? _Cersei pondered that at night sometimes. _If the time came, would she return to Sansa Stark’s side? Would she even be wrong to? _

“You talk so much about the past now. What’s changed?”  
  
“I have the throne.” It seemed so simple and yet it had cost so much. “I wanted the approval of my father, then he died. I wanted the safety of my children, then they all died. I wanted my brother to come back to me, and then he died. There’s nothing left for me to want but a melted heap of iron in a battle-worn throne room." 

It was hard to fathom. Brienne had never wanted anything in her life besides her freedom. Cersei’s ruthlessness had seemed infinite once upon a time, but now she had nothing to fight for.

“Have you ever been forced to do something by your loyalty before? Your family, or Renly, or Queen Sansa?”

The consideration was visible on Brienne’s face. Her thick brow furrowed as she thought on the question. “I suppose my father tried to force me to marry, though I always found a way to avoid that particular obligation. Neither Renly nor Sansa asked anything extraordinary of me, though.”

Cersei grimaced at the thought. Somehow it softened to a smile before she conjured any hateful words. _We are alike in that, _she thought. _The only obligation we have ever truly faced was that of our sex._

“If Renly had asked you into his bed, would you have?” 

She wasn’t sure where the question came from; the depths of her subconscious she supposed. It felt manipulative even to ask her that, but the thrill that had once run through her veins at the thought of overpowering a person with naught but words made Cersei nauseous now. 

“He was married…and he preferred the company of men…but if the situation arose, yes, without hesitation. Though at the time, I was quite enamoured with him which shades the situation differently.”  
  
Cersei scoffed at that.

The wine was in her bloodstream and she wondered whether it was that or the talk of sex that was making her loins ache. She hadn’t taken anyone to bed since Jaime died. There hadn’t _been _anyone to take to bed anyway. She would have to take care of it before she slept.

“I don’t think I could ever really _want _a man now. When a man takes you to bed, it always feels like it’s about power. I always thought it was different with Jaime, until I heard about you and I realised it was exactly the same; it was about him being mine and nobody else’s. Robert _loved _to remind me I was _his._”  
  
Brienne looked almost tense as she listened. Her hand rested awkwardly on her hip where normally she would be griping at the hilt of her sword. Still, she had not grown accustomed to court life.

“It’s getting late. Shall I leave you to rest?” Brienne asked delicately.  
  
“Stay all night.” _We’re not playing the game anymore, _Cersei thought but Brienne seemed to be ready to obey the command anyhow.

Loyalty fascinated Cersei. She’d wondered after it all her life. Men were scared of her father and that kept them in line. Men believed in the Dragon Queen and so they followed her where she went. Men loved Margaery Tyrell and so they gave her what she wanted. She wondered if she had ever earned the genuine loyalty of anybody.

_I don’t need it anymore, _Cersei thought. _King’s Landing is mine. The people are content. I need only a personal guard. Alas, I yearn for it still._

“If you want to, leave. If you don’t want to stay, ride for Winterfell and return to your queen. I release you from your vow. Your loyalty is _yours_, Brienne, it’s bound to no god now.” The games she liked to play got more dangerous with every waxing moon and soon Cersei would be hanging her _own _life in the balance for a rush.

Brienne’s forehead creased a little at the statement. Confusion clouded her eyes and she searched Cersei’s cool gaze for an explanation.

“Your Grace,” she murmured nervously, unmoving.

There were but half a dozen strides between the table at which they sat and the bed. Cersei crossed the distance and sat atop the furs. She pondered for a moment exactly what she was doing; she hadn’t been with a woman since Taena Merryweather, and that hadn’t been an ordeal she was eager to repeat yet there was something about Brienne.

“Let me fuck you.” It was a command though her voice quivered with it.

Brienne, newly liberated from her vow, rose without reluctance. Slowly, with consideration, she crossed in four long strides to stand bravely close to the brazen queen. She swallowed thickly and reached for the laces at the base of her spine, tugging confidently at the knot.

“No obligations. No orders. A humble request.”

Her hands went to her shoulders silently and pulled the fabric down to pool around her feet. She was emboldened by Cersei’s words somehow, and perhaps in part by the wine. _What was it with Lannisters giving her wine and somehow removing her clothes? _

Brienne considered saying no. She considered walking out and riding for Winterfell and telling Lady Sansa she’d do anything but go back. She considered sailing home to Tarth and reuniting with her father. Every option that she had raced through her mind at once but Cersei was right there in front of her and she was warm and she was kinder than she’d ever been.

Awkwardly, she shimmied her crinoline and braies down her legs and pulled her chemise down to cover her thighs. Gathering her clothing in her hands awkwardly, she threw them to the vacant seat and turned shyly back to a shameless Cersei.

She thought back to the last time she had brought a woman into her bed. She thought of it often and wondered if Lady Merryweather resented her still.

Cersei sat modestly with one ankle tucked behind the other, bare but for a sheer red gown. There was a hunger in her eyes that grew her pupils wide and dark and she felt warmth between her thighs for the first time since Jaime.

“Come,” she said softly, only to spy the nervousness in Brienne’s manner. “Or go. You’re free to do as you wish. You’re free to abandon me whenever you like. You won’t break my heart, Brienne.”  
  
The candles lining the walls had burned out one by one and now there were only half a dozen left to save the room from darkness. Cersei might not have minded that, she thought. There was an ease to the way Brienne stepped into Cersei’s space and to the way she sat down on the edge of the bed with her bare leg pressed right against the queen’s.

It felt reckless. This woman she’d thought she hated for years but now here she was: right in front of her with the cautious beginnings of a smile and sweet words and a look in her eyes that made Brienne feel wanted. She’d always suspected she enjoyed the company of the fairer sex but had never conjured the courage to explore such an ungodly desire.

She’d realised in light of Jaime’s death that she hadn’t _loved _him. She hadn’t even _lusted _for him, in truth. What she’d seen in him was everything she wanted to be, and in her grief, she’d envied the noble end he’d met and hoped for something similar. She wondered if her life wouldn’t have run more smoothly had she been born a boy.

Cersei’s fingers brushed the length of her long, thick thigh. Her touch left a trail of goose bumps behind and Brienne felt her breathing quicken.

“Lie back.”

The soft furs were warm against her back through the thin cotton of her chemise and they tickled the back of her bare neck. She blushed timidly as Cersei shifted smoothly to straddle her wide hips and look down at her as though inspecting every inch with great care. _If I am to know a woman’s touch, may she be a Westerosi queen. _

Brienne hadn’t imagined such softness from the queen. Her fingers skated daintily over pale skin and brushed curiously over her nipples. The thin fabric served as no barrier at all and the skin there was achingly tight in but a moment. At the crux of her thighs, desire was building, and she was tensing the muscles under the weight of Cersei in search of some relief.

_What do women do to one another? _The thought came to her suddenly and she was a shy maid of a girl with no idea what she ought to be doing once again. She knew only what she did to herself and she prayed to the seven that Queen Cersei might take pity on her and touch her at last.

The Queen pulled Brienne’s shirt up slightly and cool air rushed to her warmth so quickly that she was forced to bite back a moan. Cersei smirked deviously at the sound and ran her fingers through the damp blonde curls, made bold by the way Brienne keened against her touch.

Between the gasping and the red that rose to her cheeks and the way she watched Cersei with such wonder, Brienne lost control of herself entirely. Cersei watched with fascination and felt the longing build up inside of her. _Men are so easily fooled that they can’t tell the difference between pleasure and performance, but she is not acting, and I have her at my mercy here. _

It didn’t make her feel like a man. It made her feel more like a woman than she’d ever felt within her chambers. Her fingers delved inside of Brienne, right up to the knuckle, and then out again. Three fingers slick with lust as they fucked and felt Brienne pulse against them. Her wrist was starting to ache from the awkward angle, but the pain felt like a luxury now.

She thrust back and forth until this woman who had seemed untameable once was helpless beneath her. If this was what fucking felt like, she only wished the Gods had blessed her with a cock.

“Your Grace,” she mumbled as Cersei pushed deep inside of her. “Cersei!”

Every muscle in her body tensed and shuddered with her climax and remained tense and she looked sullenly away. _She fears she has offended me with her pleasure_, Cersei thought.

Brienne feared she could never bring herself to leave. Hateful and heartless but so beautiful with it, she could see why poor Jaime had struggled so to let her go. Yet here, in her bed with her hair unkempt and her desire plain to see, she didn’t seem heartless at all but teeming with unseen passion.

“Call me Cersei.” Brienne’s brow creased as she glanced shyly up and saw the determination on her face and in that moment, Cersei knew that Brienne was more loyal than any of the fools who’d sworn their swords to her.

_If I ordered you to love me, could you bring yourself to? _

  
  
  


  



End file.
